


Double Agent

by cmshaw



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-01-28
Updated: 1998-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Original note: Okay, in honor of National Slash Day and as a birthday present to Anna (if she'll deign to accept it) I'm offering up the first scene from what I'm hoping will eventually be a much longer story called "Double Agent".</p><p>Historic note: Obviously, there is no more of this story, but I think it stands as a cute little historical artifact like this.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Double Agent

**Author's Note:**

> Original note: Okay, in honor of National Slash Day and as a birthday present to Anna (if she'll deign to accept it) I'm offering up the first scene from what I'm hoping will eventually be a much longer story called "Double Agent".
> 
> Historic note: Obviously, there is no more of this story, but I think it stands as a cute little historical artifact like this.

Agent Fox Mulder woke up with only the mildest of hangovers in spite of the terrible taste in his mouth. The television was making fuzzy noises with which he sympathized and the carpet a foot below his head smelled like they'd spilled the vodka. Mulder was, of course, flat on his back on his couch; this familiarity was comforting, and kept him from jumping up and doing anything stupid about the warm weight snuggled on top of him.

Ah. His mouth was sticky because he'd passed out instead of brushing his teeth and going to bed, the television screen was full of static because they hadn't bothered with it since the 'Trouble With Tribbles' tape had ended, they had in fact spilled rather a lot of the vodka, and the snuggler was his new partner. Since he was still wearing all of his clothing, Mulder figured that accounted for pretty much everything of importance about his current situation.

Whether he'd be able to account for the situation once Krycek woke up was an entirely different question. Unable to decide between 'Alien' and 'Tron', his new partner had delighted him by demanding that they watch both movies. What had been intended as a graceful surrender to the inevitable assignment of his new spy had, by the third beer and the dozenth shouting of the same advice to the heroes on the screen, become almost a relaxed sort of friendship. Mulder had shyly pulled out 'The Last Starfighter', Krycek had seen over his shoulder a row of old Star Trek episodes, and the rest...got a little blurred, but judging by the evidence they'd simply fallen over sideways, possibly simultaneously, and lucked out with comfortable sleeping positions.

Extremely comfortable sleeping positions, Mulder admitted. Despite the inherent awkwardness of sleeping in jeans he felt no urgency about waking Krycek. He felt a bit of guilt, perhaps; it was mildly sleazy to lie abed (or acouch) enjoying a cuddle when one's bedpartner hadn't consented to any particular intimacy. Since the mild sleaziness of the situation was too arousing to rationalize away, Mulder just ignored the guilt. Eventually this line of thought was going to lead to a physical reaction which would necessitate getting up after all, for a short cold shower or a longer hot one, but Mulder, half-awake, allowed himself a few more moments of this drowsy comfort.

He almost jumped when Krycek grunted suddenly and nuzzled his shoulder, but he woke up enough to meet the gaze that Krycek jerked upwards with a bland, sleepy blink. He waited while his partner took stock, turning puzzled eyes around the unfamiliar room, the television, the empty bottles on and around the coffee table, and back to the man lying underneath him. "Good morning," Mulder croaked.

Krycek rolled his weight onto Mulder's shoulder and hip and brought one hand up to rub at his face. He started to say something, probably 'good morning', and stopped. From the way he ran his tongue around his teeth, his mouth probably tasted as bad as Mulder's. He turned his head again, scanning the coffee table, and then leaned precariously over the edge of the couch to snag the carton of orange juice. This operation involved rubbing his entire torso, slowly, over Mulder's stomach. Returning with the carton repeated the full-body caress in reverse, and Krycek landed back in the same position in which he'd woken, face-to-face with Mulder, except that his crotch was now firmly planted on Mulder's thigh.

Krycek rocked back to take a mouthful of undoubtably warm juice, which he swished around his mouth before swallowing. "Um," he said finally. "Good morning." He took another drink of orange juice, ran his tongue across his teeth behind closed lips again, and looked a great deal happier with the result.

Mulder concentrated on figuring out a way to move his thigh out from under the fascinating warm bulge in Krycek's jeans, preferably without seeming to rock his hips in any obscene fashion. He must have shifted a little before he meant to move, though, because Krycek glanced downward and looked suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry," he said, trying to roll away but having nowhere to go on the narrow couch; he ended up merely grinding against Mulder's leg in exactly the manner Mulder had been trying to avoid. Apparently realizing this, he stopped abruptly and slumped against Mulder's chest again. He picked up his head to apologize, but Mulder shook his head.

"Just a normal male physiological reaction to mornings. Don't look so embarrassed," he said, hoping like hell that his face wasn't turning red as he spoke. His own physiological reaction was starting to chafe inside his jeans and getting up seemed like a better idea already.

"Um," Krycek said again. "Yeah. You want some o.j.?" he asked as he took another sip.

"Sure."

Krycek looked at Mulder lying on his back, at the carton, and back at Mulder. Mulder shrugged as best he could from his position and opened his mouth. Quickly hiding a smile, Krycek took another mouthful of juice, then leaned down and pressed his lips against Mulder's. With amazing presence of mind and agile reflexes, Mulder managed to avoid choking on more than the first few swallows of orange juice. When Krycek had delivered all of the liquid and licked the inside of his mouth clean again, he pulled his mouth away and coughed a few times to clear his lungs. Krycek was grinning like the proverbial kitten in the creamery.

"That was *not* a normal physiological reaction to mornings," Mulder accused, but he ruined the effect by laughing before he could finish his sentence.

"More o.j.?" Krycek offered.

"Yes, please."

This time he met Krycek's mouth enthusiastically. After they finished off that mouthful of juice, Mulder brought his arms up from where they'd sprawled when he'd passed out and held Krycek's head down to continue the kiss. Most of the gel had worn out of the long brown hair under his fingers, but here and there locks had stiffened and he ruffled the bristly strands against his palm. Krycek dug his hands into the cushions to get under Mulder's body -- he must have set the carton aside sometime during the kiss -- and Mulder arched his spine, revelling in the feel of the hard body pressing down on him.

Krycek broke the kiss at last, pushing himself back and bracing himself on one outstretched arm over Mulder.

"Mulder--" he started, and paused. "Fox, let's--"

Mulder interrupted. "Alex. Please don't call me Fox." He hoped Krycek didn't consider that a refusal. "I just...usually use Mulder."

"Mulder," Krycek said musingly. "Muuulderrr. Mmmmulder." He dropped his forehead to Mulder's chest and started laughing. He shook his head; Mulder could see the curtain of his hair swinging from side to side, and he waited anxiously until Krycek looked at him again. "Sorry, Fox, but that's just not working." His mouth curled up into a playful smile that made him look neither childish nor innocent. "Come on, give in now and I promise not to call you Vixen."

Mulder meant to say 'oh, all right', but that smile shot right down to his groin and what actually emerged from his mouth was, "But I *am* a vixen."

That retort must have had the same action on Krycek that Krycek's smile had had on Mulder. Krycek lowered himself back onto Mulder and kissed him, open-mouthed, aggressively, throwing his whole body into that kiss. For long moments Mulder lost everything but the pulse slamming through his ears and the frantic need to twist his body closer to the writhing warmth that pressed him down into the couch.

Krycek pulled back again. "Fox," he gasped. "Fox. Bed."

"It's buried under papers," Mulder said, and tried to pull Krycek's mouth down to his.

"Jesus." Krycek's voice was getting urgent, as was his grip on Mulder's thigh. "Condoms."

"Desk behind my head." Krycek lunged upward and Mulder heard his hands smack down on the desktop. "Top drawer." Krycek's hips were wriggling over his face as Mulder heard his partner rummaging through the drawer. The temptation to wrap his hands around the thighs outlined in denim was irresistible, and as he caressed the body in front of him the sounds of the search behind him paused and resumed with greater frenzy. At last Krycek seemed to find the box, and Mulder took advantage of his move back over the couch to pull open the buttons on his jeans. Krycek balanced himself with one hand on the back of the couch as Mulder's hand slipped into his boxers and cupped his cock.

Krycek hissed and gasped for air, panting as Mulder ran a thumb along his erection, but then he reached down and gently pulled Mulder's hand away. Lifting the hand to his lips, Krycek drew small wet circles on the palm with his tongue. Mulder's head fell back against the cushions and he groaned, his whole body going limp as Krycek's tongue swirled up his index finger and pulled the digit into his mouth. Krycek sucked on the length of his finger and slid slowly back until only the first joint was in his mouth, running his tongue over Mulder's fingertip in a way that brought Mulder's hips arching frantically up off the couch again. His finger was drawn back into Krycek's mouth and held there with a gentle press of teeth; Krycek growled softly as he worked his way backwards until he was kneeling over Mulder's legs. With one last caress from his tongue he let Mulder's hand go.

Apparently he'd dropped the box of condoms next to Mulder's chest while Mulder was occupied with other sensations, because both of Krycek's hands were free as he unbuttoned and unzipped Mulder's jeans. He hooked his fingers under Mulder's briefs and with barely a hitch had them down around Mulder's knees. Leaving jeans and underwear in a tangle encasing Mulder's ankles, Krycek ran his hands up the insides of Mulder's legs and rested them flat against his stomach. He reached up, fumbled a condom out of the box, and held it up as if for inspection, meeting Mulder's eyes at last. Shakily, Mulder nodded. Hell, yes. Hell yes, please, oh yeah.

Krycek ripped open the condom package carefully and somehow folded his long body into the space between Mulder's legs and the end of the couch. His shoulders held Mulder's knees apart as he placed the condom lightly on the tip of Mulder's now completely erect cock, then Krycek brought both hands up and clasped Mulder's hands, which had been lying uselessly on his stomach waiting for something to hold on to. That curtain of brown hair came down again to hide Krycek's face, but there was no doubt at all about the moment when his tongue came out to hold the tip of the condom in place as his lips unrolled it down the shaft. Mulder would have screamed in honor of that moment if he'd been able to get any sound at all out through his throat, but as it was he was having enough trouble just getting air in.

Krycek's lips pushed that condom right down to the base of Mulder's cock and proceeded immediately to start their real work. Mulder noticed, briefly, that he was thrashing around under Krycek but that Krycek seemed to be tracking his hips without much trouble, and then he was too far gone to notice much of anything. Stray observations did float through his consciousness: Oh, he's good, Alex, he's really good, it's too fast, too good, I need, I need this, too fast... He could feel his shoulders digging into the cushion beneath him, supporting most of his weight; he couldn't for the life of him tell what Krycek was doing to his cock, except that it was absolutely wonderful. Then someone dropped a live electrical wire into the boiling water between his legs and it was all over. He remained vaguely aware of Krycek's strong grip on his hands as the world vanished in black-on-black fireworks, then he was on his back on the couch, chest heaving in search of breath, and he realized he'd arched back in a silent scream as he'd come, still unable to make a sound.

Krycek sat up between his knees, letting go of Mulder's hands and carefully sliding the condom off as he moved. Dreamily, Mulder watched Krycek scan the room and finally toss the condom into the empty pizza box. That struck him as funny, but he couldn't catch his breath to laugh. Krycek was leaning over him looking almost worried now.

Mulder tried to smile, didn't think it worked, and gasped, "Yeah." That seemed to please the man hovering over him, so he continued. "Ah. 'S good." It was good, although it wasn't enough; his body was quivering limply but his mind still wanted more: more human contact, more heat, more sex.

Oxygen and rational thought were beginning to return, reluctantly. He brought his hands up to stroke Krycek's chest through his teeshirt and ran them down to his groin, where the tip of his cock was poking out from the fly of blue-and-white checked boxers. Pushing the fabric back, he took the length in his hands -- it took both hands, and he approved of that -- and squeezed lightly. Krycek grunted and thrust his hips against the pressure. Mulder hooked the heels of his sneakers into the edge of the couch and pulled his body farther under Krycek, who, once Mulder let go of his cock and braced his hips, obliged by crawling upwards until his knees rested on either side of Mulder's chest. This time when Mulder reached for his cock Krycek stretched himself out and got a solid grip on the far armrest in preparation.

With a tiny grimace, Mulder got himself a condom and ripped open the package; he'd never found any way short of strawberry jam to disguise the dry taste of latex, and he rolled the condom on (with his fingers) and quickly ran his tongue around the head and up and down the sides to get the worst of the flavor off before getting down to business. Wrapping his arms around Krycek's waist, he pulled himself up and took the head of his cock into his mouth. Krycek started bucking as Mulder sucked strongly and then swept his tongue in circles. The torso above him twisted and a hand came down to find the back of his neck, sliding up to cup the base of his skull. Right, Mulder thought, remembering how Krycek had gone down on him. He likes it hard and fast. Shifting his angle to loosen his throat muscles, Mulder dropped his jaw and let his head press all the way in to Krycek's stomach.

Mulder held the fullness in his mouth and throat as long as he could and pulled back again. He pistoned up and down like he was doing pullups on Krycek's hips, then Krycek's fingers around the back of his head wound into his hair and he was pulled in and held solid while Krycek thrust. The strain on his shoulders was painful, but he ignored it as the hips in his face and the cock in his throat jerked faster and faster, while Krycek yelled wordlessly and climaxed.

He lifted Krycek's hips away from his head and slid himself up the couch. Krycek collapsed, releasing Mulder's head to brace himself on all fours and breath. Mulder gratefully let his head fall back onto the cushion and slid his arms up around Krycek's ribs. He turned his head and pulled Krycek's chest down against his cheek as they panted together. Krycek's teeshirt was wet with sweat and the skin underneath was flushed warm from the exertion. Mulder swallowed a few times and worked one hand between their bodies to retrieve the condom, which he tossed with a mental shrug next to the first in the pizza box. They were both still clothed, mostly, and sticky now from more than sweat.

Oh. Damn. This is good. This is more than good, Mulder decided, but we still need to get up now.

"Fox?" Krycek asked softly, the question vibrating in his chest.

"Mmm?"

"You okay? I didn't mean to get quite so rough there."

"You weren't too rough," Mulder protested, then, quieter: "I like it like that."

Krycek curled on his side until he could see Mulder's face. "Like what?"

Mulder swallowed and said carefully, "I like to be topped like you just did. I like to be held down."

Krycek chuckled. Relieved, Mulder let himself relax fully into a blissful smile. You never knew, these days, who objected to what. "Good," Krycek said, smiling at Mulder. "I'm glad you like that." That was the same smile that had spiked heat through his body earlier, and Mulder was happy to see that even sated he appreciated its glow. "I'm glad you like that," Krycek repeated in a low, suggestive voice that boded excellent things for their partnership.

"I," Mulder purred softly, "am a high-maintenance femme. Do you really think you can handle me, Alex?"

Krycek, with the help of the back of the couch, pushed himself up until he was kneeling over Mulder's chest again. Tenderly, he reached down and ran his fingers through Mulder's hair, stopping with the palm of his hand cradling Mulder's cheek. "Yes," he said. Mulder smiled at him and turned his head to kiss Krycek's wrist. With a groan, Krycek slid one leg out and planted a foot on the floor. He lifted himself off of Mulder and the couch, turning once he was steady on his feet to offer a hand to Mulder, who let himself be pulled into a sitting position but then had to stop and sort out his shoes, pants, and underwear.

Mulder started to tug at his laces, then looked up at Krycek, who was standing rather uncertainly in the middle of Mulder's living room. He nodded his head toward the bathroom and said, "Go ahead and use the bathroom first if you like." Krycek smiled in thanks and left.

Mulder freed himself finally from the tangle of clothing wound around his ankles and stood up himself. He turned off the television, tossed the pizza box and condoms in the kitchen trash, piled the empty bottles in the sink, and returned to stand in the living room. Feeling silly suddenly wearing just his teeshirt, he stripped that off as well, then gathered his clothes in his arms and dumped the lot in a corner of his bedroom with other dirty laundry. He fished out a clean pair of sweatpants, reconsidered, and hunted around until he unearthed his favorite pair of jeans. Then he stopped again, hesitating, and dropped both on the corner of his bed to pick up two pairs of boxers and two clean teeshirts.

He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into the steam. He put his pile of clothing on the lid of the toilet and picked up the jeans, teeshirt, and boxers that Krycek had left on the floor.

"Alex," he said to the hiss of the shower, regretting the opaque shower curtain, "I'll toss your clothes in with mine and you can pick them up next time I do laundry, okay?"

"Sure, thanks." Mulder put his hand on the door, but Krycek continued after a beat, "If you do laundry on anything like a normal schedule, you're assuming something of a long-term relationship here."

"Well," Mulder said, "unless you're planning on getting reassigned..." He let his voice trail off into a shrug.

"Or you are," Krycek replied.

After a minute, Mulder said, "There's not much point to that, is there? I'm obviously not allowed to work alone any more. I suppose it's flattering, in a way, that the Bureau is going to the trouble of sending such pleasant people to watchdog me. I mean," he clarified, "pleasant in a general sense. Not that I object to this specific instance of pleasantry, you understand."

"The Bureau didn't send me to watchdog you," Krycek said, pulling aside the shower curtain to frown at Mulder around the edge of it.

"Oh? Then who did?"

Krycek met his eyes steadily but didn't answer. Mulder looked away first.

"Well. It doesn't matter in the end, really. It all goes to the same people." He shrugged. In this fatalistic mood, it actually didn't matter to him at all. "Mind if I join you in there?"

Krycek held open the shower curtain in invitation. Mulder dropped the bundle of clothing by the door and stepped under the hot water.


End file.
